The bound man's eyes went wide, heart hammering in his chest as he realized the figure before him. Mejiro moved closer, silent as the shadows themselves, his presence cold and absolute. The faint light from the warehouse flickered across his blade, raised without a sound, cutting through the ropes that had bound the man's wrists. The leather and fibers snapped as they fell to the floor.
"No need to talk," Mejiro said, his voice a low, cutting whisper. "Cops will be coming soon. We need to keep moving."
Outside, the wail of sirens echoed through the narrow streets. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the scent of wet asphalt. Rain had left puddles reflecting the pale light of streetlamps, and overturned trash bins rattled softly in the wind. They sprinted through the maze of alleys, the walls of brick and concrete pressing in, narrow enough that the bound man felt as if the city itself was trying to crush them.
Every step was a calculated risk. Broken glass crunched underfoot, and the echo of their own breathing sounded loud in the enclosed space. Mejiro's blade swung loosely at his side, a constant reminder that he was ready for anything.
Suddenly, an arrow whistled through the air, aimed straight at the bound man. He froze, but Mejiro reacted instantly. The blade met the projectile with a sharp clang, sending it skittering to the side. The bound man's heart skipped — this was no ordinary opponent.
Ahead, two figures emerged from the misty alley. One was slender, clad in tight white attire, a scarf wrapped carefully around her head. Her eyes glinted coldly, calculating, and the way she held her bow suggested lethal precision. Beside her loomed a massive, muscular man, the sheer force of his presence pressing down on the narrow street. Even the dim light seemed to bend around him.
"Run!" Mejiro shouted.
The bound man hesitated, fear paralyzing him for a heartbeat. But instinct took over, and he sprinted, legs pumping frantically.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, glancing back in terror.
Mejiro's gaze was sharper than any blade. "You really want to know?"
The woman tilted her head, voice smooth, almost mocking. "Aww… it's not polite to greet a visitor like that."
Mejiro's lips barely moved. "Politeness won't save you."
Arrows rained from the woman like deadly rain, each one blocked effortlessly by the steady swing of Mejiro's blade. Sparks flew as steel met steel in blinding flashes. Mejiro advanced relentlessly, his movements precise and fluid, leaving no opening for escape.
The giant lunged, the force of his step cracking the concrete beneath him. Mejiro jumped, swinging his blade, only for another arrow to explode in a flash of fire and smoke, sending him sprawling across the wet pavement. The impact left him breathless, bruised, and bleeding, but his eyes burned with unwavering focus.
The giant towered over him, gripping Mejiro's hair and lifting him as easily as a child. "It's over, young man. You are death," the giant growled, his voice rumbling like an earthquake.
The woman closed in, bow raised, eyes narrowing.
"No. It's not," a mysterious voice cut through the tension like a blade.
Both enemies froze, scanning the alley. "Who is it? Show yourself!" the woman demanded, voice sharp.
Without warning, a punch slammed into her stomach, sending her crashing into a trash container. The giant released Mejiro, who fell hard onto the cracked, wet ground, coughing, blood trickling down his cheek.
"Show yourself. Don't hide. I will crush you!" the giant roared, fists trembling with rage.
Silence swallowed the street.
"Perhaps… I don't think I'll be the one crushing you," the voice said, smooth and chilling.
The giant turned, and Mejiro was already on his feet, gripping the bald man's head, slashing him down with a single, brutal strike. He fell, groaning and crumpled on the ground.
Breathing heavily, blood streaked across his face, Mejiro straightened slowly. His gaze locked on the alley ahead, calculating, lethal.
"Kenji… stop playing. Come out," Mejiro said, voice low, controlled, a warning hidden beneath the calm.
A faint shimmer appeared in the shadows, and Kenji stepped forward, smirk faint but eyes sharp. "Ah… I was just having some fun," he said, voice smooth, teasing, yet threaded with danger.
Mejiro didn't flinch. "Fun? You call this fun?" He gestured toward the sprawled enemies, the ruined alley, the echoes of destruction. "We need focus. Now."
Kenji's eyes glimmered with faint amusement. "Relax, Mejiro. You're too tense. I know why you're here. You care too much. But you're losing your edge."
Mejiro's jaw tightened. "Care? I don't care about your games. I care about saving him."
"Ah, yes… the boy. I wondered when you'd bring that up." Kenji's tone was casual, almost light, but his eyes missed nothing. "Do you even know where he is?"
"I have a trail," Mejiro replied coldly, voice sharp. "We move fast. Stay close, or don't follow at all."
Kenji chuckled softly, tilting his head. "So serious… all work, no fun. You're not enjoying yourself, Mejiro."
"I don't need to enjoy it," Mejiro snapped, then paused, his gaze scanning the shadows. "We do this, we save him. That's all that matters."
Kenji's expression softened slightly, though his smirk never left. "Fair enough. But remember… chaos doesn't wait for anyone. Be ready for surprises."
Mejiro's eyes narrowed. "I am always ready."
Kenji finally inclined his head, stepping back into the dim alley shadows. "Then tell me… where is he?"
Mejiro's cold gaze didn't waver. "We'll find him. Let's move."
The scene shifted. The bound man ran, lungs burning, heart pounding, as he darted through a labyrinth of warehouses. Each step was a gamble; sharp edges of metal, piles of crates, and dangling wires threatened to trip him. The echoes of distant sirens and shouting blended with the thudding of his own heartbeat, creating a symphony of chaos.
Finally, he reached the end of the maze. Ahead, a figure stood in a striking purple suit, white hat tilted just enough to shadow his eyes, a subtle, enigmatic smile playing across his lips.
The bloodied man dropped to a bow, chest heaving. "It's a pleasure to meet you… President."
The man in purple simply observed, hands clasped behind his back, a silent storm of power and authority radiating from him, leaving the bound man trembling under his gaze.